


Gnaw

by cazzy



Series: the moon, let it guide you [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Banter, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Pack Dynamics, Some violent imagery, Werewolf Keith, Werewolf Lance, Werewolf Politics, is 'accidentally turning ur future bf into a werewolf' a valid trope, most of voltron is werewolves, pack bonds, shiro as a mentor/sibling figure to keith, toeing that thin thin line between werewolf fic and ABO fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14050983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazzy/pseuds/cazzy
Summary: “There’s more,” Shiro sighs. “You asked me for help, and I had to save you, but you deserve to know every aspect of the decision I made. I honestly shouldn’t have even done it without your consent.”Keith scrubs at the tears that are definitely not forming at the corners of his eyes, forcing his mind to accept the topic change. He’ll have time to mourn his dad’s death later. “Has to do with the dead deer you brought in, I’m guessing?”There’s a soft huff of laughter from the man opposite him. “Smart. You’re not really… human anymore, and you’re going to start craving red meat in a few hours, now that you’re finally up.”That’s definitely a statement strong enough to completely derail his grieving. “What?”Shiro runs a nervous hand through his hair, like he’s not even sure he made the right decision. It’s not exactly a vote of confidence. “You’re a werewolf now.”





	Gnaw

**Author's Note:**

> Written while procrastinating on the last chapter of sink your teeth in, which was only written because I was procrastinating on writing the newest chapter of Born Asleep... Beginning to sense a pattern, here.
> 
> Anyway, this is the Klance prequel to my Shatt fic! You don't need to have read it (at this point) to start this one, which mostly explains Keith's backstory and point of view as it relates to the first fic in this series. Events will eventually overlap, though, so it may do you well to read them both!
> 
> (Also, [Sarah](https://twitter.com/puppysmooch) over on Twitter has been my supplier of [cute klance wolf doodles](https://twitter.com/puppysmooch/status/972729595358269440), so please [check them out](https://twitter.com/puppysmooch/status/972726750558990336) because they're adorable and everyone should see them.)

He knows, with complete and absolute certainty, that he’s dying.

There’s too much blood. It’s almost funny, considering who his attackers were, but he’s too far gone for the irony to do anything but cross his mind briefly.

“Keith,” his dad murmurs from beside him, and it takes all of his effort to move his head those scant few inches so they can lock eyes. “I’m sorry. We just wanted you to be… safe.”

 _What do you have to be sorry for,_ he wants to ask, but for some reason his throat isn’t functioning properly. It’s not _his_ fault they were ambushed by supernatural creatures that apparently exist, and besides, they’d fought back as best as they could. There are a few bodies riddling the floor beside the two of them, but even felling a few of them hadn’t been enough considering the veritable army who'd stormed their home.

They’d been swarmed by vampires. Vampires with gleaming, bloodthirsty eyes and ivory fangs and thick bars of metal that had _stung_ when pressed against Keith’s skin. They hadn’t even drank his blood, during the attack, and even with the haze of near-death clouding his mind, Keith acknowledges that they’d been making some sort of statement with this slaughter.

He watches, unable to look away, unable to ask why he’s apologizing, as the light in his father’s eyes fades.

He hopes his own death comes as quickly.

“God _dammit,_ ” an unfamiliar voice says, breaking through the too-quiet silence and snapping Keith out of the state of half-consciousness he’s in. He's hovering between the dim border of life and death, wavering as though waiting for him to solidify his choice. “Too late.”

Keith’s fingers twitch in response to the words, just barely. He can’t raise his hand above the ground more than a few shaky inches, but it’s enough to grab the stranger’s attention.

“Help,” he mouths, unable to force anything but the barest of noises past his lips. He hopes it’s enough, or that death will be merciful and claim him before he suffers this pain for another instant.

The stranger says something that doesn’t quite register, and then there’s a sudden searing pain in the junction of his shoulder. Darkness envelops him quickly, silencing everything.

 

* * *

 

Keith wakes to a loud _thump._ He’s been fading in and out of consciousness for the past few days, body recovering from the various traumas inflicted upon it, but this is the first time he’s felt so cognizant. His memories are sparse and limited, too fever-addled to string together in a truly coherent way, but he does remember a blurry vision of his savior and a name offered to him — _Shiro._

“Shiro?” he asks. His voice is an ugly croak, throat already burning from disuse, but it’s a significantly better attempt than the last time he had tried speaking.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Shiro bends down to untie the heavy boots he’s wearing. “Good. How do you feel?”

“Glad I’m not dead,” he says honestly, before realizing Shiro’s probably asking him about his physical status. He does a mental check, taking note of how sore he feels _everywhere,_ and how he seems to be in way better shape than anyone who had such a close brush with death should be. Keith’s about to offer a verbal explanation of his observations before his eyes catch on the tawny lump resting on the floor. Shiro must’ve just dropped it, and the resulting thud was what woke him up. “Is that — a _deer?_ ”

“Yeah. You’re, uh. Going to need a lot of meat over the next few days. I’ll explain in a bit.”

It’s a testament to how radical the past few days have been in Keith’s life that he’s not even off-put by being told something so ominous. He pushes himself into a sitting position, which tugs on his injuries. They don't hurt as much as they ought to, though, which is strange. He would've thought getting ripped open by vampires would've had more lasting effects.

“What happened?”

Shiro sighs before pulling up a chair and settling into it. “What do you remember?”

“We were attacked,” Keith starts slowly. “By a bunch of… vampires.”

He’s keeping a careful eye on Shiro’s expressions to see how he reacts to hearing such a thing aloud. Unfortunately, there’s not even an inkling of surprise on his features — just a sort of resigned weariness.  

That answers one question. Keith had been starting to doubt his own account, but the men who had assaulted him _definitely_ had elongated fangs and an agileness no human being was capable of. On top of the way they'd jeered at Keith and his father about being prey not even worth feeding on, he'd felt pretty confident in his assessment. And Shiro’s reaction confirms that not only do they exist, but he already knew they did.

“I’m a hunter,” Shiro explains. “And probably not the right person to tell you that supernatural creatures _do_ exist, but… I was hunting the coven that attacked you and your father. I caught their trail too late to find them before they got to you both.”

Keith’s fairly sure he knows the answer, but he _has_ to ask: “Is he okay?”

Shiro averts his gaze. “I couldn’t help your dad. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he says. His throat feels tight, and his eyes burn. “Figured.”

It’s quiet in the room for a moment, and Keith stares at the blank wall ahead of him, trying to wrestle his emotions into something more manageable. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the last few moments before his dad died, or the cryptic words he’d left behind: _We just wanted you to be safe._

“There’s more,” Shiro sighs. “You asked me for help, and I had to save you, but you deserve to know every aspect of the decision I made. I honestly shouldn’t have even done it without your consent.”

Keith scrubs at the tears that are definitely not forming at the corners of his eyes, forcing his mind to accept the topic change. He’ll have time to mourn his dad’s death later. “Has to do with the dead deer you brought in, I’m guessing?”

There’s a soft huff of laughter from the man opposite him. “Smart. You’re not really… human anymore, and you’re going to start craving red meat in a few hours, now that you’re finally up.”

 _That’s_ definitely a statement strong enough to completely derail his grieving. “What?”

Shiro runs a nervous hand through his hair, like he’s not even sure he made the right decision. It’s not exactly a vote of confidence. “You’re a werewolf now.”

It sounds like a bad joke from a fantasy movie, and Keith can’t help but say, “Vampires couldn’t have waited until I got turned into a werewolf to start a mortal enemy war, huh?”

“I’m serious,” Shiro says. “Watch.”

And then he’s standing and tugging his clothes off. Keith yanks his gaze away, embarrassed, until he realizes it’s for a good reason: Shiro’s not just shedding his clothes, he’s — _changing._

There’s a hum in his mind that sings of pain, which doesn’t make much sense considering Keith’s just sitting in a bed while the guy who saved him contorts his body into impossible positions and groans. He has to be in absolute agony. The sharp cracking of bones breaking fills the air, and he’s unable to look away as Shiro falls onto his hands and knees before his limbs — extend, there’s no other word for it, and they suddenly look far less awkward and much more _canine._ It looks painful, to say the least, but he definitely doesn’t seem like anything human anymore. He shudders, and fur sprouts out from the expanse of his skin.

Before his eyes, the largest wolf Keith’s ever seen is sitting in front of his bed. The wolf — _Shiro_ — is mostly black atop his head and spine, the dark color fading into greys and whites as his fur reaches his legs. He’s stunning, and the sharp eyes staring straight at him manage to look uncannily human.

“Alright,” he says, eyes wide. “I’m convinced.”

The pressure in his head had relented once Shiro had fully transformed into a wolf, but it returns as he seems to revert the process and return to a human form. Keith’s not stupid — he connects the dots quickly, and realizes that whatever’s happening means he’s _connected_ to the man in front of him. He can recall something about wolves being pack animals, and it’s definitely train of thought to question later, when he’s not still reeling from the fact that not only is a werewolf in front of him, but he’s apparently one, too.

“So… werewolves and vampires. Any other magical creatures I should know about?” He’s trying to joke, but it comes out sounding a little bit hysteric.

“Too many to count,” Shiro replies. “The deer’s because it takes a seriously ridiculous caloric intake to handle shifting on a regular basis, and the meat’s fresh and will satisfy the wolf part of you that’s awakened.”

Keith just nods dumbly. It’s a lot of information to take in.

“But don’t worry about other magical beings for now. Your only priority is preparing for your first shift. The full moon’s in a week and a half, and I want you to be as prepared as possible. In the next few days, your wounds should be healed enough that a shift won’t be more painful than it normally is. We have a lot of work to do.”

 

* * *

 

When Shiro had mentioned _a lot of work to do,_ Keith had anticipated rigorous training. Maybe his physical form was too weak, and he’d have to train to make up for the fact that he was now part-beast. Or Shiro would give him a Werewolf 101 teaching lesson — which actually sounded kind of cool. Keith’s never been a huge academia person, but he’d eagerly devour any knowledge about the supernatural.

He _hadn’t_ assumed Shiro would force him to do this… meditation bullshit.

“We aren’t going to make any progress if you don’t take this seriously, Keith.” Shiro sounds about as exasperated as Keith feels.

“That’s what I’ve been saying for the past hour!”

“You have to _try_ ,” he urges, but the thing is, Keith _has_ been. He's been sitting at Shiro's small kitchen table, breathing slowly and trying to focus on his mind. But all that’s banging around in his head is his own thoughts, and the building frustration at this futile exercise.

Shiro grits his teeth. “Okay, this obviously isn’t working—"

“Duh.”

He shoots Keith a glare, which satisfies the petty annoyance he’s feeling. “Alright, different approach: tell me how this feels.” And then he’s flipping open a pocket knife and dragging it across his forearm before Keith can do much but vocalize a token protest at the sight.

But Keith — feels it. It’s a mere echo of the overwhelming feelings he’d experienced when Shiro had shifted before his very eyes, but the pain is still very clearly translating into… something within Keith’s mind.

“What does this feel like, for you?”

“It hurts,” Keith says, brow furrowing. “It’s not like, a mirror of your injury, though. My arm feels fine. But… in my mind, I can feel your pain,”

“That’s our pack bond,” Shiro explains as he presses against his wound with a damp kitchen towel. “I turned you, and you respond to me as your alpha, now. But it’s not a one-way street. Your emotions and experiences relay across our bond, because wolves are pack animals. We rely on one another, and need this kind of contact to thrive. And you'll feel everything I do, too.”

Keith hums thoughtfully. It’s satisfying to be able to put a name to the feeling that’s resided within his consciousness since he woke up in Shiro’s home. The loss of his father still feels like a gaping wound in his chest, but he finds himself unopposed to the idea of being connected to Shiro like this. The older man has been nothing but kind, and he _did_ save his life.

“So… focus on our bond. Beneath it you should feel…” Shiro trails off, frowning. “Ugh, I don’t know how to explain it. We wouldn’t feel a bond at all if not for our inner wolf bridging the gap, so somewhere inside of your mind, you should be able to acknowledge its existence. If you can show it you don’t reject its presence, then your first shift will go much more smoothly.”

He’s not entirely sure if he understands completely what Shiro’s saying, but there’s definitely _something_. It doesn’t feel like a completely separate identity inhabiting his mind beside him, though, which is why it had been so hard to grasp. If Keith’s right, and feeling what Shiro’s telling him is his inner wolf, then it’s a presence that feels so integrated with his own being that it’s almost untraceable. There’s the merest suggestion of instincts that don’t seem to belong to humans, but it feels… right.

His wolf isn’t an intruder in his mind that appeared the moment Shiro turned him. No, his wolf _is_ him, and may have always been there, waiting for the chance to awaken from its dormancy.

 

* * *

 

His first shift is horrible, but necessary.

It’s excruciating as the moon’s magic forces his body to rearrange itself for the first time, bones breaking and contorting and growing until he’s standing shakily on four legs, fur rippling across his body. He doesn’t remember much about the first night he spends as a wolf, but Shiro reassures him that’s fairly normal and that he hadn’t done anything concerning. On full moons, they apparently succumb entirely to their base instincts, giving in to wolf urges.

He wakes up the next morning sore and aching and feeling like he’s never been more alive.

The months pass quickly after his first full moon, and he learns to master shifting outside of the influence of lunar magic. The pain of a shift never truly abates, but being fully cognizant while in wolf form makes all of the fleeting agony absolutely worth it. His senses are so much more refined, now, and he adjusts easily.

With his father gone, Shiro becomes his only grounding connection to the world around him. They settle in a town where things much stranger than two werewolves rolling in and leasing a two-bedroom apartment happens, and work freelance hunting jobs that get posted at the local bar.

Things could definitely be worse. Shiro’s a great alpha, all things considered, and their pack is small but comfortable.

It’s not the sort of life Keith ever expected to be a part of, but it’s not so bad.

 

* * *

 

The first time Shiro takes him along for a hunt, Keith is very nearly killed.

Despite all of his protests — “I’ve been able to shift consistently for _months” —_ he is utterly unprepared for the reality of Shiro’s job. He’d been tracking a feral vampire and finally cornered it in an abandoned warehouse. It should have been an easy kill; Shiro had briefed him about how ferocious vampires could be when half-starved and desperate, but Keith had been overconfident about his own abilities. He'd held his own — for awhile, at least — against the vampires that had attacked him, and even before that he'd been fairly competent at hand-to-hand combat.

His bravado flies out the window the moment he actually sees the feral, though.

He'd prepared for the fight enough to satisfy Shiro, with stakes and silver weaponry prevented from burning Keith's own skin due to high-quality leather gloves, but nothing could prepares him for the sickening roll of his stomach the moment he comes across a vampire for the first time since his almost-death.

As he approaches, his body freezes shock-still at the sight of the bloodsoaked vampire. It had been feeding on the dead pig Shiro had planted to keep it preoccupied, and it's glutting itself with no intentions of stopping.

Hours of torture and agony at the hand of these — these  _beasts_ — comes rushing to the forefront of his mind, and Keith can't help the bile rising in his throat, burning him from the inside out. All of Shiro's lessons about how to eliminate vampiric threats as effectively as possible slide away, and all that's left is Keith's unbridled horror.

He whimpers aloud.

A few seconds is all it takes for the feral to notice his presence and charge him, and Keith's utterly unprepared for the speed and weight of the vampire slamming into him. He hits the ground hard, arms instinctively trying to push away the immediate threat. It takes all of his strength to keep the vampire at bay, and leaves him no openings to grab any of his weapons. The vampire manages to scrape deep gouges into the flesh of his arms, howling as the scent of fresh blood fills the air. It had been difficult to keep from ripping his throat out before, but the vampire's efforts redouble as it works itself into a frenzy.

"Fuck," he spits, knowing he's screwed up. He's going to die here because of a stupid fucking  _feral_ vampire. Struggling, he stares directly into crazed eyes and sees no hint of intelligent life. All that’s present is the bloodthirsty yearning to kill and _consume,_ and he’s terrified.

Shiro destroys the vampire shortly thereafter, stabbing it from behind before tending to Keith’s wounds with a mixture of anger and worry, and all Keith can do is _remember those eyes._

After his first disastrous hunt, Keith demands more rigorous training. He’ll never allow another vampire to get that close to him again, he vows. They’re monsters, little more than starved, demonic beasts deserving only the release of death.

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s been on-edge for the past few hours, but refuses to talk about it. It’s frustrating, because Keith can feel every ounce of unease over their pack bond, and it makes _him_ agitated, too, like some corrupted feedback loop.

“You’re going to give yourself hives,” Keith calls out after Shiro types something so aggressively on his computer’s keyboard that he’s pretty sure he hears it creak ominously.

“Thank you for your valuable feedback,” Shiro mutters distractedly.

It’s a quiet afternoon — the supernatural community seems to be on its best behavior, and they haven’t nabbed a hunting job in days. Typically, Keith would be grateful for the reprieve, but on top of Shiro’s building anxiety, he just feels like crawling out of his skin.

There’s nothing to _do._

He closes his eyes and tugs on the almost-tangible bond that manifests in the darkness of his eyelids. Plucking at it like it’s a violin string, he watches it resonate as both of them are reminded of how unsettled they both feel.

“You’re like a child,” Shiro says as he pushes away from his desk.

Keith glares. “I’ll stop if you tell me what has you so restless.”

“There are unbound wolves in the area,” he admits finally. The way he says _the area_ rankles; Keith knows he means to say _our territory,_ but they’re in a multiple-pack town, and staking a claim like that aloud would cause several alphas to come and challenge Shiro directly.

“Maybe another pack will snatch them up,” he says. Unbound wolves don’t seem to be too dangerous, according to what Shiro’s told him, and that means he’s not hearing the full story. There’s something else about these wolves that his alpha’s dissatisfied about.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “Want to go for a run?”

Keith’s already up and halfway out the door. “ _Yes,"_ and then they’re gone, worries flung to the wayside in favor of the thrill of fresh air rushing through their fur.

An explanation for Shiro’s bizarre behavior comes a few days later, when Keith’s on a solo job to evaluate whether or not there’s a banshee living in the loft above a local bookstore. He’s heading down the street, hands jammed into his pockets and hood up as he follows his mental directions to the supposed haunting site, when he sees them.

A couple, just up ahead. They’re walking hand in hand and smiling at each other, and Keith would be fooled into thinking they were just an innocuous human couple except for the way they’re carrying themselves. Wolves understand the value of their bodies, marvels that they are: handling the burden of transforming flesh and bones on a whim is powerful magic, and as a result weres tend to move with an almost-reverence that speaks highly of how respectful they are toward their vessels.

It’s how Keith walks, too.

The couple doesn’t look like any of the wolves he’s met before in town, and Shiro’s words ring in his mind: unbound wolves.

It’s fortunate that Keith’s far enough away that they don’t seem to have noticed him watching them yet; it gives him an opportunity to observe from a distance. The wind’s blowing in his favor and he manages to catch their scent, confirming what he already knew: definitely wolf. There’s something particular about the way they smell, though, that he can’t properly identify. He’s used to Shiro’s smell, and is pretty familiar with the other wolves they run into regularly in such a small town, but the way these two smell is… different.

Stronger than what he’s used to, and tinged with something that seems to command respect from Keith’s inner wolf.

It’s likely that their scents have something to do with Shiro’s unease, Keith surmises. He’ll bring it up after he’s finished with this job.

(It’s not a banshee, either, just a stupid owl that somehow flew inside the building’s roof and ended up stuck and wailing for help once it started getting hungry.)

 

* * *

 

To his complete surprise, the new wolves in town approach Shiro before Keith even gets the opportunity to question him about their arrival.

There’s a knock on their apartment door right as Keith’s mulling over the best way to bring the topic up, and he feels Shiro’s surprise alongside his own when the door’s opened and the two wolves are standing at the threshold.

“Hello,” the woman says. “We were wondering if you had a moment to talk?”

Keith sends a pulse of unease across their bond. This already looks like bad news.

Shiro sighs. “Yeah, come in.”

“Really?” he can’t help but ask. _We don’t owe them anything,_

The wolves step inside their apartment, murmuring thanks as they do. The moment they cross the thrsthold, Keith’s inner wolf… seems to settle. He’s still nervous about their presence, but smelling them up close causes a reaction within him. It’s an entirely unfamiliar feeling, but if pressed, Keith would almost compare it to the way he submits to Shiro as pack alpha.

It’s weird, and Keith isn’t sure he likes it.

“My name is Shay, and this is Hunk. And who might you be?” she asks, turning her attention toward Keith.

He scowls in return, unwilling to cough up any personal information.

“He’s under my protection,” Shiro says warily. “How did you find me?”

“We actually, ah, followed you here,” Hunk admits sheepishly, rubbing a hand behind his head. "You're a hard one to track, but not impossible."

Keith narrows his eyes. They’re complete strangers _admitting_ to stalking his alpha? He doesn’t like the way this sounds at all. His unease travels across the length of their bond, and Shiro responds with a soothing balm of confidence.

“Keith,” Shiro says, and there’s a resigned note in his tone. “Stand down, it’s fine. I expected something like this would happen sooner or later.”

“What do you want with us?” he can’t help but growl, despite Shiro’s command. If he can’t get answers out of them through physical intimidation, he’ll have to try at using words, even if they aren’t his forte.

“Shiro’s incredible,” Hunk says, and it’s annoying how undaunted he seems in the face of Keith’s aggression. “Walking away from his clan like he did and still making a name out of himself in the community? We admire you greatly.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Shiro responds. “They hated me before I was even born. Leaving was the only decision that made sense. None of the Ancients would have ever accepted me, you know that.”

Alright, Keith’s officially lost.

Shay touches Hunk’s arm, offering them all a soft smile. She must see the confusion on Keith’s face, because she says, “We’re pureblood werewolves, born into the bloodright of shifting. But our community… it’s very strict and traditional, and we couldn’t handle it anymore. It’s not right, the way they treat half-bloods like you and turned humans, and we… we want to make a difference. Be on the right side, for once, and so we left.”

Keith’s been a werewolf for over a year, has spent most of that time navigating his way around his newfound identity as a wolf and the supernatural community alike, and this is the first he’s hearing about any of this. Shiro’s a… half-blood? Does that mean one of his parents was a born wolf, like Hunk or Shay? Are they stronger than Keith is? Do they possess any special powers?

Their entire apartment smells like these wolves, their scent somehow permeating everything in such a short amount of time. Keith has a lot of questions, but it’s clear that these… pureblood politics are serious business. He feels a little bit like he’s drowning under the sudden weight of all this knowledge, and wonders why there’s so much Shiro has never mentioned to him.

Shiro frowns. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to help you. Keith and I… we’re just trying to get by. We’re certainly not about to stage any revolutions in the near future.”

“We’ve come to seek asylum from the traditional pureblood ways,” Shay continues, a determined glint in her eyes. Before Shiro, the two of them bare their throats in a gesture of submission. “And we admire you. This isn’t a blind decision we’re making, so… would you allow us into your pack?”

 

* * *

 

There were a few outcomes that Keith had predicted, upon being faced with their bizarre proposal.

The first: Shiro rejected their proposal. This, to Keith, was the most plausible; he figured that there was a reason his pack alpha had never brought up werewolf politics around him, and Keith certainly wasn’t going to blame him for running away from their problems. (Hell, he probably would’ve done it, had he been in Shiro’s place.)

The second: Shiro accepted Hunk and Shay into his pack, and it just didn't work out. Significantly less likely, but it was important to think about all plausible situations. In this possibility, the purebloods brought with them nothing but trouble — which, honestly, seemed pretty realistic, given their potent scents and the plethora of issues they’d apparently been on the run from. Keith still knows almost nothing about the pureblood wolf clans out there, but he’s fairly sure they wouldn’t let two of their kind run away scot-free if they were as iffy about bloodrights as they seemed to be. They'd probably hit a threshold of being able to provide assistance at some point, resulting in letting them go from their pack rather than continuing to deal with it all. 

The third possibility… it seemed so unlikely that Keith hardly put any credence into it. There was little to no way that Hunk and Shay would actually integrate into their pack, finding a home amongst Shiro and Keith and settling down in a satisfying, organic way.

Keith's life seems to be touched by irony, though, and the most implausible scenario plays out like a movie. Hunk and Shay become his closest friends alongside Shiro, and after the loss of his father, Keith learns how to be immeasurably thankful for his pack family.

 

* * *

 

“We should move,” Hunk says as he steps inside the apartment one day. Keith’s immediately on alert as soon as he hears the words, but a quick glance at Hunk’s body language doesn’t indicate any sense of urgency. In fact, he looks so relaxed that Keith can't help but mirror him, settling back into the comfy couch crammed into their tiny living room.

“Why’s that?” he asks, curious. Shay’s on-shift at the hospital, and Shiro’s at the bar seeing if there are any new postings, so it's just the two of them. 

“Everyone in Stefan’s pack has been glaring at us for the past two weeks,” Hunk says, scrunching his nose. “I think they feel threatened by Shiro, and I’m afraid they’ll try to pick a fight sooner rather than later.”

It’s been tricky, navigating the territorial disputes of a three-pack town. Shiro and Keith had moved here for convenience rather than anything else — most of its inhabitants are of the supernatural variety, but they tend to get along better than werewolves do.

He has a point, too. Keith’s noticed their attitude as of late, and it’s a growing annoyance. Stefan's wolves aren't nearly strong enough to take on Camila's pack, who put their roots down decades ago and have more wolves than the rest of the town's packs combined even with their alpha male's recent death, but he seems to think he's poised to attack their small, four-man group.

“Shay would have to leave her job,” he points out. She’s probably the most commited of them all, but…

“Doctors are always in demand,” Hunk says with a grin, reading Keith’s thoughts. “She could go anywhere.”

Keith nods. “We can see what Shiro says. I certainly have no attachments to this shithole.” They already got Hunk and Shay out of it, anyway. It’s not like there’s anything else worthwhile here for them.

Hunk waits until both Shay and Shiro make their way home before bringing it up again, although judging by the optimistic look on Shay’s face, she knew this was coming.

Shiro seems amenable to the idea, at least until an actual city is mentioned.

“Altea’s big,” he capitulates, “but I’m not sure we’d be welcomed with open arms.”

“We’ve met Allura before, during our travels,” Shay says. “She takes care of her city, and I think she would love you. Your reputation precedes you, and—"

“They’re looking for an Enforcer,” Hunk finishes excitedly. A thread of trepidation hums through their bond, and he adds, “Oh, come _on,_ Shiro, you’d be perfect.”

Keith has no idea what being an Enforcer entails, but he feels caught up in their excitement, despite the fact that the two of them were obviously scheming about it behind their their backs.

A move sounds nice. Refreshing. Keith grew up in the city, too, and returning to one sounds like a good idea.

Shiro gives in a few minutes later, although there’s a smile quirking his lips even as he concedes and harrangues his pack for ganging up on him.

They hitch a trailer to Shiro’s truck, packing all of their belongings and a few pieces of essential furniture, and are gone within a month.

 

* * *

 

Their new house is perfect. It’s large without being uncomfortably so, and is backed up against the edges of a thick, green forest. The location is prime, too, just far enough out of the city that they have some semblance of privacy. Shiro’s apartment had been a hub of pack activity before they’d moved, but with this house, and this forest, their pack _thrives._ Shiro’s new job affords them good food, security, and a foot in the door with the supernatural community within Altea.

Almost instantly, it feels like home.

 

* * *

 

Tonight’s full moon feels… off.

There’s always the slightest bit of trepidation that Keith knows he’s sending down their pack bond on nights like this, but — Shay and Hunk are purebloods, and have never succumbed to the base instincts of their wolves when lunar magic is so potent in the air it’s almost visible. They don't understand why this isn't his favorite night of the month, because their blood sings with their shared pack magic, and they flourish under the moonlight.

Although he’s been in Altea for close to a year, now, and experienced many shifts without incident, there’s something different that niggles at his thoughts. Shiro, Hunk, and Shay all seem fine, though, and so he chalks it up to the full moon.  Keith’s not a fan of losing coherence to his instincts, but he does trust his wolf. Besides, it’s just for a single night, and he swallows down his uneasiness as Shiro begins to shift.

The night passes in a blur of playfighting with Hunk and a thrilling hunt where the four of them manage to take down a buck with sprawling antlers atop its head. Keith loses track of the others after they share the deer, which isn’t uncommon. They’re pack animals, but sometimes the thrill of being a wolf means running at top speed through the greenery without worrying about one another.

Keith's not sure how much time passes before lunar magic weakens its hold on him, indicating an end to the night. The back of his mind tingles with the anticipation of shifting back, but only for a brief moment before the now-familiar agony starts to overtake him. He's so distracted by the pain of his shift back into human, though, that he makes a fatal error: he forgets to make sure he’s alone.

“W-what—“ a voice chokes out, and Keith’s head snaps up.

“Oh, god,” the human gasps, taking an instinctive half-step back. He’s just a few feet away, and Keith can hear the way his heart pounds desperately in a bid to beat itself right out of its ribcage.

He’s absolutely terrified, as he should be.

“A-are you — _okay?_ Shit, you like, transformed—”

Despite the note of concern in the human’s voice, Keith’s hackles raise. His body aches with the pain of a shift, mind still muddled by wolf instincts warring against his human senses. One thing’s clear, though: this stranger just witnessed something he was never meant to see.

 _Danger,_ his hindbrain hisses. _Dangerous to your pack._

He doesn’t have any options. The moon may be setting, but lunar magic still thrums through his entire being, and he’s too caught off-guard to wrestle with the wolf’s keening. His instincts are filling his mind with panic and the frantic, urgent need to eliminate the threat.

He has to kill this human to protect his pack and their secret.

Keith hardly notices the shift back into wolf, as panicked as he is. This is a situation spiraling out of control, and he can’t focus on the way his bones rearrange and thicken, the way fur spills over his entire body and his teeth elongate, because they’re all just tools right now, tools so he can _protect_ the fact that they exist —

It’s child’s play to pounce and knock the shock-still human to the ground, and Keith wastes no time in subduing him so that nobody will ever learn of his pack’s existence.


End file.
